


Dash

by serapheim



Series: 30 Kisses [14]
Category: DBSK|Tohoshinki|TVXQ, Real Person Fiction
Genre: Cars, Cheating, Drinking, Drunk Driving, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fighting, Fucking, Impaired driving, Jaejoong is a saint, M/M, Profanity, Rape, Rape/Non-con References, Sexual Violence, Violence, Yoochun is fucked up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-13
Updated: 2013-06-13
Packaged: 2017-12-14 19:58:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840775
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serapheim/pseuds/serapheim
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their fights have always been ugly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dash

**Author's Note:**

> 30_kisses challenge, #9; dash

Their fights have always been ugly. Curses and insults exchanged, random objects thrown. Others tried to interfere at some point. But after a couple of misplaced punches and bruised egos, they learned to stay away.   
  
This time it was much worse.   
  
Yoochun flung a bottle at Jaejoong. Barely missed his head, showering him with glass debris and remains of whatever alcohol Yoochun had been drinking. Yunho yelled. Jaejoong said nothing.   
  
Then there were curses and punches. Grabbing a fistful of dark locks Yoochun dragged Jaejoong outside. The elder boy let himself be pushed into the car. He sat there with his eyes locked on his trembling hands as furious Yoochun sat behind the wheel.   
  
Clutch, gas, break, illegal u-turn and then accelerate. Overtaking, flashing headlights, wrong lane, a string of curses and they were steering into freeway.   
  
They were doing over hundred. Something English and undecipherable was blasting the radio. Jaejoong decided that fastening a seatbelt was pointless. Because Yoochun was feeling murderous and Jaejoong didn’t want to move.   
  
Finally they were parking on the roadside. A cut on Jaejoong’s cheek stung a little. His muscles protested, emitting a soft gasp from him, when Yoochun hurled the boy outside. He wasn’t given enough time to curl on the ground and catch breath. He was dragged upright, slammed into the hood of the car.   
  
“It was just a kiss, Yoochun,” he said hoarsely. He wasn’t exactly pleading because he knew it was useless. He just couldn’t help hoping for a miracle.   
  
Face pressed into the warm metal of the car, his arms twisted painfully and legs shoved apart – his body was bent in the worst parody of a body search. His hair was half obscuring his view, but he knew what was going to come next. His shirt was ripped off in seconds, his pants pulled down.   
  
His cheek hurt where it was pressed into the hood, his arms ached with strain, his stomach rippled with pain from the punches. But when Yoochun slammed into him without any preparation, lubrication – _without anything_ – ripping him open, even then he couldn’t bit back a moan of pleasure.   
  
Yoochun moved, bruising and hurting and marking him. The angle was weird, rhythm irregular, but Jaejoong felt himself harden almost instantly. Unfortunately for him it was over almost as quickly as it began. Yoochun bit him on the shoulder, undoubtedly drawing blood, ejaculating inside him. And then he was gone.   
  
It was the worst, thought Jaejoong, to be stuck in this vulnerable position, legs apart and the evidence of the other’s release trailing down his thighs, cold and tickling the skin. His arms caught in the remains of his shirt and his cock straining painfully against the car hood. But somehow he wasn’t afraid of being caught like this. The only thing – person – he had to be afraid of was panting behind him.   
  
“Why do you always make me do this?”   
  
Jaejoong choked as a fit of hysterical laughter threatened to escape his mouth. Why. He always asked him that question. Why did he like to flirt with others? Why did he let him hurt him? Why did he still want him? Why did he let the other treat him like the worst whore?   
  
It wasn’t about love or devotion. They were long over the affection part. It wasn’t about faithfulness. He was more like a dog, loyal to his master no matter what kind of person he was. It was about ownership, about the owner and the one being owned.   
  
Gentle hands removed the torn pieces of his shirt, used them to clean his thighs and pulled up his pants. His erection was fading as his mood had switched. He was cautiously moved to sit in the car, Yoochun’s coat was draped around him, and he was left to doze off on their way back home.   
  
There in their bedroom he was put in bed and enveloped in the protecting circle of arms, where he slept peacefully till next morning.   
  
And till next time.   
  
//   
  
  
_Written: February 25, 2007_  
 _Revised: June 12, 2013_


End file.
